


little soldier boy, come marching home.

by CrescentTown



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Parent Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Bad Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Cara | CaptainPuffy and Jschlatt are Siblings, Cara | CaptainPuffy is Clay | Dream's Parent, Child Neglect, Deity Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Enderman Hybrid Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Eventual Happy Ending, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Ghost Wilbur Soot, Heavy Angst, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), I'm so bad at tagging this is it I swear, Immortal Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Major Character Injury, Manipulative Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Pig Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Ram Hybrid Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo & TommyInnit Friendship (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo Has Anxiety Disorder (Video Blogging RPF), Sheep Hybrid Cara | CaptainPuffy, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Suicide Attempt, Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), Temporary Character Death, Toby Smith | Tubbo Has PTSD, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Traumatized Tommyinnit (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Toby Smith | Tubbo, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, Winged Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Winged TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:08:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29707290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrescentTown/pseuds/CrescentTown
Summary: Months spent in exile takes a heavy toll on Tommy, tired of fighting against the role of "hero" he's been forced to play and left wondering why he sacrificed so much of himself for a nation who threw him aside.Dream takes advantage of the artificial peace that exiling the child soldier had brought to the dying nation of L'manberg, pulling strings from the shadows as he slowly achieves the unity he'd been craving for so long.That is, until Dream learns the hard way that he cant control things he never understood in the first place.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 318





	little soldier boy, come marching home.

A week into the seventh month of Tommy’s banishment into exile, he finally gave up. 

The first thing he noticed was the sun as it tried to blind him from behind his closed eyelids. The next thing he became aware of was the fact that his eyes were heavily crusted with sleep that Tommy doesn’t bother to get rid of. 

Wakefulness, as always, brought back the pain from injuries that sleeping had allowed him to ignore. There's a dull sting in his foot that hurts more than the burns on his hands, courtesy of the nether. He’d tripped over a particularly jagged stone a few days before, drawing blood and subsequently, the pain had kept him awake for a few days.

It still hurt, but it was healing and Tommy reckoned he’d be able to walk on it soon. 

Not like he had anywhere to go, aside from his designated island of exile. 

Discomfort came from weeks old bruises mingled with a few recent injuries that sit atop scars, some pale and silvery in contrast against his own sallow skin and the others still an angry shade of pink or red. 

He was used to the wounds and various abrasions that littered his body by now, though. It didn't bother him as much as it should have. 

_It didn’t matter what happens to you anymore_ , Tommy thought to himself bitterly, _nobody cares._

Recollections of when Dream had given a majority of the scars to him came forward with numb apathy as his fingers ghosted down his arm and encountered several of them. If you didn't know what you were looking for, you wouldn't have been able to tell the wounds from Dream apart from the other, older scars, ones he'd earned fighting for L'manberg. 

Yet, he knew what made the difference between them. 

Each one he'd gotten from Dream had healed faster, leaving behind perfect lines that were absolutely uniform. The skin was never jagged, the stitches never left scars and despite how deep they were, they always settled into a near unnatural pale silver.

Tommy had spent more of his recent days tracing each scar on his arms and oftentimes legs too, when they'd been pulled against his chest, dazedly starting over when he ran out of scars to trace. More than once, Dream had found him like that and had to force him to get up and do something before his muscles began to atrophy. 

Dream had helped him so much lately, Tommy wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve such a dedicated friend. 

The recollection of Dream whispering words of reassurance as he bandaged and cleaned Tommy up after the last particularly bad wound comes to his mind. 

Tommy remembers how much just _hearing_ him had brought him comfort as he lay on the ground with unfocused eyes staring up at the sky as he choked back pained sobs. 

_Blood had pooled around the grass where he'd somehow fallen backwards, too stunned to cry against the sudden and blinding pain radiating from the sudden gash in his shoulder. Tommy doesn't remember the moments before his back hit the ground too well._

_He remembered that he hadn't even had time to bring up his hands,"Nightmare" coming down on him in a flash of enchanted tempered Netherite steel too fast for him to react to, before pain was blooming behind his eyes. Everything went white for a moment as his nerve endings exploded in agony, shock preventing him from reaction._

_He had deserved it, his brain had screamed at him, it’s what he got for going against Dream in the first place when the man in question had been so kind to him. All he asked was for his armor and tools, why was it so hard for Tommy to just do that for him? Why was he so useless that he couldn't even do something so_ **_simple_ ** _like that for Dream?_

_After all, he had remained Tommy's friend even when everybody else had abandoned him. Tommy had felt the kindness in each tug and pull as the delicate needle in Dreams hands stitched him back together, a hand running soothingly through his hair when the pain was too much._

_"You're lucky I keep my weapons as sharp as they are," Dream had retorted, concern lacing the tone of his words as he worked to patchup the large gash in Tommy's shoulder, the result of him stubbornly refusing to shed his armor before Dream had taken it upon himself to remove it._

_"The cleaner the cut, the easier I can heal it." Dream had spoken to him with such warmth, hadn't he just been mad a second ago? Why was he treating him with such kindness now, when Tommy felt like he didn't even deserve it?_

_Tommy had cried then, overwhelmed by the situation and his own feelings, confusion mixing with nausea in his stomach before Dream was shushing him gently. He was being so concerned for him, Tommy couldn't understand why he would do that, not after how mean he'd been to the green clad hunter._

_As Dream worked diligently, Tommy fought against the rising sh_ _ame and guilt that washed over him in the silence that followed, burning him the whole way through._

_"Maybe you'll learn not to fight me next time." Dream had ruffled Tommy's hair as the final stitch had been put in place before he was reaching into his satchel and pulling out a health potion. Tommy remembers hearing rather than seeing Dream uncork the frail glass bottle before the vial was brought up to Tommy's lips._

_"Drink."_

_Tommy had obliged, swallowing the too tart mixture as his mind swam with fear and pain before he found himself dazedly agreeing with what Dream had said._

_He wouldn't be dealing with this in the first place if he had only **listened** to Dream and **obeyed**. After all, he was only trying to watch over him to make sure he was okay in the first place. Surely, he'd gone back to being the same Dream that Tommy remembered him to be, way before the wars had started. _

_Back when it had been just him, Dream and ~~Tubbo.~~ _

The drowsiness that came from sleeping for far too long drapes around his brain like a weighted blanket and the last thing Tommy can recall is Tubbo's smiling face. 

The cloying confusion that swirled in his brain, It made it harder to remember much past that point and attempting to think past the numbness is way more effort than Tommy wants to exhaust. Trying to think through it is like trying to cut through molasses with a spoon. 

Despite that, part of him acknowledges how _nice it is,_ about the fact that he can't think properly about things that hurt him. 

When had sitting around thinking about people who had hurt him done him any good? 

Tommy doesn’t even need to open his eyes to know that the sun it’s far too high in the sky for it to be morning anymore. He feels that putting a damper on his already low spirits as the realization that he couldn’t go out to forage sets in. By the time he would be able to get far enough inland to find anything to hunt, the sun would already be dipping into the horizon. 

_That's fine,_ Tommy reassured himself, _you ate something yesterday, anyway._

Pulling himself up, ( _why did his head swim so much?_ ) it’s only then that he's able to register the fine grains of sand underneath his palms, scratching against his bare skin. How it's accumulated around his ankles and stuck to strands of his greasy, steadily growing hair.

The sound of the ocean is what hits him next, the rhythmic sound of waves against the shore signifying that he’d fallen asleep near the water.

 _Again,_ his brain supplied, he’d fallen asleep near the water _again._

Tommy struggled to open his eyes, a hand coming up to groggily paw at his face in a poor attempt to rub the bleariness away before the world started spinning. 

There’s a moment where his heart rate skyrockets up from the simple exertion and Tommy is left to struggle against the sudden and intrusive exhaustion that robs him of strength. What the fuck, he'd only raised his damn arm for a few seconds it wasn't like he was made of glass or some shit. 

But that was fine, acceptance washing over him instead as Tommy let himself go limp and fall back onto the ground without caring. There wasn’t any reason to get up anyway, no rush. 

Tommy wracked his brain for the last time anybody had come over to visit him before the memory of the last time Dream had gone back to the SMP, asking around for people who wanted to visit. 

_"Nobody asked to come to visit. I even went around L'manberg and the Badlands, asking everyone I saw, I didn't stop to think..." Dream had trailed off, tilting his head down sympathetically to stare down at the ground, shoulders dropping with the weight of the bad news he was forced to deliver._

_He seemed so genuinely apologetic for bringing him nothing but bad news, that Tommy had no choice but to believe him. After all, he had left earlier that day with promises to come back with anybody who asked to see him that day._

_Dream never lied to him._

_despite that, Tommy had tried to ignore the pang of loneliness that had pierced his chest when he saw Dream walk back through the portal by himself._

_"but- are you sure? Not even Tubbo?" Tommy had clutched at the front of Dreams horrible green and white jumper, the older boy having stopped wearing armor around him for some reason._

_He trusted that Tommy, his_ **friend,** _wouldn't hurt him._

_At his outburst, Dream had only shook his head before carefully removing Tommy's white knuckled grip on his clothing before holding his frail hands in his own calloused hands ones, so very gently. Concern radiated from the point of contact, as if Dream were scared that the boy in front of him would break in front of his eyes._

_Dream had squeezed his hands ever so slightly before hanging his head._

_"I'm sorry."_

_Tommy's heart had sank._

  
  


At the start of exile, Tommy had been nothing but spitfire and rage, denying anything and everything that Dream would try to tell him, knowing how easy it was to fall for his lies. 

And It _had_ worked, for a while. 

He’d been reassured that he was right and Dream had been _wrong_ when people had started to drop by with gifts, presents and much needed company. They had helped his spirits, giving him hope and strength that he would be able to escape exile with his spirit still intact. 

Then, the company and visits had tapered off much faster than Tommy had wanted it to. In fact, Tommy hadn’t seen many visitors past that first dreadful week he’d ended up in Logstedshire. Of course he's thankful for them coming out to visit him when he was so far away from everybody else, but after a while it just hurt him more than it helped. 

Especially when nobody had even _bothered_ to show up at the beach party that he'd been so excited to prepare and create, nobody except Dream. Tommy remembers how absolutely heartbroken he had felt when the day had come and nobody had shown up aside from his only _friend_. 

_That was for the better_ , Tommy reassured himself as he breathed in and out with the rhythm of the waves, body lost in the swirling exhaustion that pulsed through his body in time with his heartbeat. _It meant they didn't have to see the mess he'd become._

His throat felt parched, sandpaper rough when and he’d tried to cough it away, his chest _burned_

Was he getting sick? That didn’t make much sense. 

Nothing made much sense around here, anyway. 

  
  


Tommy isn’t sure how much time had passed, eyes half open as he stared at the waves in front of him before a foot was sharply digging into his side, eliciting a pained rasp out of him. There's a moment as he chokes on his own air, searing and burning nausea to rips through his stomach, the urge to vomit hitting him hard and fast. 

He doesn't, though, despite his head _spinning_ with confusion as his core spasms against the pain. It hurts enough to force him to roll onto his side, gasping like a fish out of water.

_Dream was here again._

Wait, hadn't he said he wasn’t coming back to see Tommy for a while? Trying to regain his bearings, Tommy thinks that Dream must have changed his mind.

Tommy squeezes his eyes, trying to stop the shaking in his shoulders as he quickly dragged himself up. There's a tremor that he knows isn't from malnourishment running through him and Tommy feels surprised when hes able to make it to his feet, knees threatening to buckle underneath him as he weakly brought up his inventory and cleared it. All of it. 

One by one, his items hit the sand and Tommy didn't feel the burning resentment he used to feel, almost relieved to have an empty inventory once again. 

Backing away from the miserable pile of sticks and other garbage, Tommy waited. 

Swaying gently, eyes trained to the ground, he _waited_.

There was an uncomfortable silence as Tommy sways on the spot before he realized that the sound of digging and subsequent TNT blowing up, muffled underground but still loud and close enough that he could smell the gunpowder, the scent invading his senses as the air around him _reeked_ of ash and smoke exactly like the time he’d watched an enchanted diamond sword clatter to the stone floor _stained_ with the blood of-

Tommy let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. 

The explosion wasn’t coming. 

Why was Dream taking so long?

Mind buzzing with confusion and stress, It takes him far too long to realize that he’d been spoken to. 

“‘m sorry, Dream,” the broken words fall from cracked lips, Tommy still too nervous to face his tormentor, “that’s all I have.”

There’s another beat of silence, Tommy acutely aware of it this time and how nervous it’s starting to make him feel. He desperately starts to think about the last few minutes in his head, looking for any kind of reason that he’d make Dream, _his only friend,_ mad at him.

Had he done something wrong? Why wasn’t Dream taking his stuff, Tommy had done everything right, hadn’t he? 

Tommy’s body goes rigid when he hears a throat clear, the sound clearly one of discomfort. 

“I’m uh,” the person struggles to find the right words, “ _definitely_ not Dream or ever _have_ been. I've never once claimed to be said person, as far as I can remember. I'm also not interested in whatever garbage items you’ve been collecting.”

Tommy whips his head up as the realization that whoever who had just spoken wasn't Dream and blinked as his hazy vision settled on a crimson cloak. 

_There’s no fucking way he’s here,_ Tommy’s brain screams at him seconds later, when it had registered that it was _Technoblade_ of all people he’d just thrown his stuff at, _you’re hallucinating again_. 

The relief that pours over him is euphoric.

It’s just a hallucination, he could deal with that.

Tommy can’t stop the delirious laughter that bubbles out from him, the relief and hysteria mixing until he couldn’t tell one from the other. The idea that the piglin hybrid was actually here never crossed his mind, _couldn't_ cross his mind. 

Isolation could do that to you. 

With shaky limbs, Tommy bends down and scoops his stuff back up before letting it disappear back into his inventory. As he stands back up, he doesn't have a moment to even catch a glimpse of Techno's face before he’s forced to sit down, head swimming with exhaustion.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy noticed the illusion of Technoblade take a hesitant step towards him, ear twitching with agitation. He looked startled, if that were possible for the hulking monolith of a man. 

“Come to taunt me ag’n? ‘s been awhile since you both’rd,” eyes closing as he slurred his question, Tommy lets himself fall over onto his back before turning onto his side to face the ocean again, “‘unno if it makes much diff’rence but I don’ r’lly want to deal with this t’day.”

Technoblade, unlike the past times he’d appeared in Tommy’s hallucinations, didn’t start berating him for governments or blaming him for not being quick enough to prevent Tubbo’s second death. He didn’t even blame Tommy for the downfall of Wilbur, didn’t accuse him of being a spoiled child that ran away from their home instead of keeping it nice for his and Phil’s return all those years ago. 

No, instead Technoblade had tilted his head unbeknownst to Tommy and regarded him with something akin to concern in the scarlet eyes hidden behind the bone mask that shielded his face. 

“Tommy, how long have you been here?” 

That was a new one. “Fuck off.”

“I’m being serious, Tommy.” Techno had _sounded_ serious, alright but that only made Tommy roll his eyes at how poorly the illusion was trying to manipulate him.  
  
“Look at me, I’m _Technoblade_ and I’m being serious, mehmehmehmehmeh.” 

"Tommy." 

Despite the horrible rasp in Tommy’s voice, the snark was still there and Tommy prided himself in the fact his voice had been strong enough not to crack or break. 

Tommy could hear the growing irritation as Technoblade sighed, clothes rustling as Tommy imagined him bring a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he did whenever Tommy had annoyed him. 

He remembers Wilbur doing the same thing.

“Look, I’m just asking because it looks like you’ve been here long enough, if the state of your clothes is anything to go by.“ Technoblade’s monotone had returned, seemingly ignoring what Tommy had just said. “Seriously, did you just stop caring about your shirt to stop repairing or washing it? You look like a mess.” 

At this, Tommy stayed quiet, too tired to admit what Technoblade should have already known and too far gone to recognize the teasing tone in the voice of the pink haired man. 

_You’re a mess. This is why they’re happier without you, can’t you see that?_

Tommy didn't bother to respond, letting himself focus on the sound of the waves instead. Sunlight beat down on him, soothing away the chill inside of him, the one that clung to his bones and refused to leave. Most days Tommy found that he hated the merciless heat but today, it was oddly comforting. 

Soothing. 

"Alright, something is officially wrong. The Tommy that _I_ know wouldn't have taken that without saying something back or going more than a minute without calling me a 'bitch' to annoy me." Technoblade sounded closer to now, as if he were crouched behind him. "what's wrong kid, I haven't seen you this unresponsive since Wilbur passed." 

Tommy felt sick as his throat seized up.

Desperately, he tried to block out Technoblade’s voice, willing him to just go away and leave him alone instead of this horrible manifestation of a longing to see somebody who used to care about him. Why was it _him_ of all people? 

But, Technoblade had never really cared about him, Tommy knew that the moment he and Phil had walked out the door, leaving him with a grieving Wilbur that didn’t know how to raise himself, let alone Tommy. 

Tommy knew Techno hadn't cared the moment he had swung at him, full force in a pit nestled somewhere at the bottom of a now abandoned ravine. 

Anger and grief burned underneath his skin, urging him to fight back and say something but he knew that's what the hallucination wanted him to do. This wasn’t the first time a hallucination of Technoblade had taunted him with the memory of Wilbur and probably wasn’t going to be the last. 

He wasn't giving in to what the ghosts of his old allies and family wanted from him anymore. 

Fighting against it just made it hurt more in the end and he'd rather give up than give in. 

“I w’nna be left ‘lone.” Tommy whispered hoarsely against the sand pressed against his cheek, hands coming up to grip his shoulders in a grim parody of comfort. “ _Please._ ”

Surprise painted his bones in shock as somehow, it _worked_. 

After his broken plea had carried to where Techno had stood, there had been a poignant pause. Tommy had held his breath before the sound of retreating footsteps could be heard, ears straining until he was certain that he could no longer hear them in the distance.

Only then did he let himself relax, body sagging with the exhaustion and stress that came from dealing with whatever _that_ had been. 

Stars above, he was exhausted and he hadn’t even been awake that long. 

Letting the tears that had slowly been building at the back of his eyes fall, burning hotly as they rolled down his cheeks, Tommy willed himself to just sleep it off. 

Sleep didn’t come for a while. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is a revised version of my other story I took down the other day, I didn't like where it was going and I decided to withhold positing it until I had a solid plan which, now I do!!
> 
> comments and criticism fuel me, updates happen sporadically :]
> 
> edit: oo still sad over tommy death but tag update ay


End file.
